Just Imagine
by mitzipler
Summary: A child's imagination is a beautiful thing. A child whose imagination is so great that it leaks into society is extraordinary. But the problem that arises is a simple one. How do you identify the line between reality and fantasy, when everything has become so blurred that fantasy becomes reality, and reality becomes fantasy?
1. Prologue

"What did you see?" My Dreamland—I saw My Dreamland.

I sneak a glance outside. The sun is smiling today. I feel its warmth on my skin, see its morning gold grace everything with its touch. A Hashirama tree, whose branch is burdened by a wooden swing, stands proudly under its affection. Grass waves joyfully. Gurgling frogs' leap, looking for a new adventure. Everything seems happier when the sun smiles.

"I don't know," I say instead, knowing he wouldn't be happy if I told him the truth.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

A cloud lulls over the sky, and everything droops. The Hashirama tree slumps, grass stills, frogs hide. Where's my light, I hear them say. Then, they moan and sob and weep for their light. "It's alright," I whisper, and the light returns. As if they were children given their favourite treat, they spring back with a ridiculous amount of energy.

I always forget that Inochi is observant. "Naruto," he reprimands.

I look at my hands, folded in my lap. "M'sorry."

For a moment, silence is the wall between us.

"You know that none of this is real, don't you?" He says this softly and full of sympathy.

"I know." But I wish it was.

.

 **A/N: Rather short, but I guess that's alright since it's the prologue. Comment, fav, etc, and I'll keep writing!**


	2. Chapter 1

Growling sounds behind me. I turn, already knowing what's there without looking, and, sure enough, it's Hokkaido wolf. Four of them. And their beauty is even more brilliant in real life. Their fur was white; and their eyes, such beautiful blue orbs! I never seen anything so blue—Kami, they were almost white. I liken them to glaciers in a frozen sea. They have large, sturdy structures, and their poise is one of elegance and pride. I never seen snow before, but I think this is the closest I've ever been. They were the epitome of Winter. Just looking at them I want to wrap my arms around myself.

They also look completely out of place. Is this real? Is this really the Hokkaido wolf?

They must be because they're looking at me with a burning intensity that I taste a fear that is undoubtedly real. Though angelic looking, they're savvy creatures that use their mind and strength to capture any victim, my mind supplies, grasping the most unnecessary information from those terrible history lessons that Iruka-sensei made us sit through. If only my brain was that useful when I needed it. Slobber gathers around their mouths, and they're looking at me as if they haven't eaten in years. Their noses scrunch, and sharp fangs show through snarls, or hideous smiles.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

What do I do? Run? But they're blocking the way to my apartment, and I can't outrun _wolfs_.

Why didn't I run before? I'm so, so stupid. I will never, ever not trust my instinct. Never again.

The middle one steps closer, and I swallow a cry. I'm defenceless. I have no weapons (salespeople refuse to sell me any) and even I know my fighting abilities are about as useful as the butter knife in my pocket. I probably wouldn't last against a moose. Ninjutsu hates me, and my genjutsu is non-existent. I can't come up with some brilliant plan; logic flees me in moments of distress.

I don't think anyone will help me. I'm in an isolated part of Konoha, and it's nearly midnight. It's hard to tell with the moon covered by great big clouds. Maybe—

What is that? It looks like…a butterfly? No, it's more human than insect. It has tiny, pink wings, shaped like a heart cut in half, and an even smaller body. The body is probably the length of a pinkie. It looks like a doll with wings shoved on it. I can't see anything else; she's too tiny and far away.

Her arms are waving frantically. Does she need help, too? Because I don't think something as small as she could help me. Surely, she is crying for help, as I am.

I look back towards the wolfs in front of me, and they step closer, the one in the middle first. He must be the Alpha. Each movement is slow and deliberate, and I realize they're taunting me. Why don't they just get it over with? Perhaps Hokkaido wolf like to agonize their victims. They carve prey's fear as they carve meat.

They shouldn't have had: it's the fear they encouraged, coursing through my veins, winning against the boiling under my skin, my only courage, that gives me strength—the strength to run. Run like I should have had before, and I try to ignore the voice that whispers they're faster than me.

It feels wrong, wrong, wrong, and my body screams at me to hide and cower. But there's a thrill to it. I'm playing a deadly version of tag, and Kami, I never felt so _alive_. Adrenaline clutches my heart, consumes my mind and body, and I'm hooked on it. It's addictive, so addictive that I think I'll do it again.

A quick look over my shoulder; the wolfs are some distance away. Not a lot, but it's enough for my body to want to sag in relief. I don't let it, though. I'm not far enough; they'll catch up to me easily. I know the only reason I made it this far was surprise. They weren't expecting their little prey to run.

The little human is closer. I don't know why I ran to her. I can't help her. Maybe it's a prey thing, the selfish closure from dragging another prey down with you.

Up close, I can make out her features. She has large eyes and a tiny nose. It looks like the face of five-year-old. Her clothes are made only of leaves, and they're cleverly weaved into a skirt and a shirt with a complicated design. Whoever made that is an artistical genius. I can barely make a knot with a palm leaf, and they're much bigger than that. Her hair is pink, like her wings. Her wings aren't sparkly or particularly nice to look at. They look like the wings of a bat, just the wrong shape and colour. Under a thin layer of pink skin, I could see the veins popping out, and along the upper edge of the half-heart is bone. Veins variate the tones of pink. Some are so dark they look purple.

"Naruto," her voice is high and as tiny as her body, "over here—the hole is over here!"

What? I catch up to her, gulp some air, and my gaze follows to what she's pointing at. She's right. The stupid hole I've been looking for all night is here, only some metres away from where I was searching. Twigs and bushes heavily layer the hole. Twigs and bushes that I placed.

"Quick! They're coming." Oh Kami, my heart just stopped.

With that reminder, all my questions disperse, and I run to the hole and pull away bushes and twigs, not caring as a thorn pierces my skin. A spider appears on a stick—a big, yellow one—and I don't hesitate to throw that twig away, too. I feel something like hair or silk on my arm, and I resist a squeal. I'm going to die, and here I am, cringing over a spider web. Jeez, am I even a ninja?

"Spider webs can cause illness," the tiny human tells me.

"Eh, really?" I didn't know that.

"Well, not usually. But that's a Widow spider and their spider webs are coated in poison. Pretty deadly. So, if you don't die from the wolfs, you will from spider webs." She shrugs a, What can you do? "Hurry—you're nearly there. The wolfs are close now."

I would've burst into tears if Hokkaido wolfs weren't chasing me. This is all too much pressure. I'm being chased by wolfs, and now a tiny human is telling me that I'm going to die from a spider web.

Still, my body is blind from the adrenaline rush and is moving on its own accord, and I'm so very thankful for that because right now, every thought and emotion is an indistinctive mess. This must be what a hangover feels like. I don't know what I was thinking. I'll do this again? I'm not, most certainly _not_ going to do this again. If there ever is another opportunity. Oh Kami, I'm going to die. Die. No, no, no. This isn't supposed to happen. Another stubbly bush pricks my finger, and my mind barely registers that my thumb is bleeding. I can't die. I see worn rope leading to a dark pit. I will _not_ die.

The rumblings are louder. They already caught up with me. I want to look over my shoulder, but my body won't let me. Otherwise, what courage I have left would be pushed into submission. I race to the rope, and I can hear harsh rustling of bushes and wind's loud whines. I lean over, and it's dark down there. Darker than a vacuum filled with coal and every other black thing. I can't even see the bottom. If I hadn't been there before, I would've thought it goes all the way into Earth's core.

I take a breath. I always hate going down there. I clumsily climb over the entrance and hold onto the edge with all my upper-body strength. I swing my feet until I feel the first step. Though, it was more of a rope tied to two other pieces of rope. I let my weight sink into the rope. The ladder shakes and swings side to side a few times, and I wait for it to settle. Tentatively, I go down another step, and my hands grasp where my feet were first.

Something blocks the moonlight, and I look up. A wolf. My heart is hammering to the point that I think I will have a heart attack, even though I know it can't reach me. Wolf obviously can't climb ladders, and the fall is too great for them to survive.

But he swipes at my hand before I move, and…nothing. He becomes translucent until I see only the faint outline of shaggy fur, a long muzzle, beautiful almond eyes. Where white and blue should be, Hashirama trees dance lazily in the moonlight, and quarter-moon peers at me, hiding behind the same impossibly big clouds. It's like looking through a window. Then, he is nothing.

I hear laughter. "Silly-billy, the wolfs aren't real, and there's no such thing as poisonous spider webs!" With that remark, her laughter fades, and I'm pretty sure she's gone too.

It all makes sense now.

The weird colouring, the 'Hokkaido' wolfs appearing out of nowhere—even though they've been declared extinct since The First Shinobi War—the tiny human. It's all my imagination.

I was already feeling tense. It was getting late, and I felt certain someone was watching me. It was probably my paranoia that conjured the wolfs; the tiny human from my desperation. It was so obvious. There are no white wolfs in Konoha, and I don't think there are any tiny humans with bat wings either. How did I not realize?

Sometimes I really hate my imagination. I wish it would tell me when it decides to do that, so I don't have a dozen panic attacks.

I let my body sag. I press my cheek against the cool ground. I stay there for a moment, my residue panics a collar restraining any movement, thought or feeling. _Don't go back now_ , my mind warns. I see a tiny black dot skittering over my hand that is tinged grey in the moonlight. It tickles, and I have the urge to fling my hands and scratch at it until the thing is gone. But if I let go, I'll fall. Something moves in the wall, and there's another one. I squint, my eyes barely registering anything at all, and I realize the wall isn't entirely black. There is just a lot of ants. There must be a thousand of them! They coat the wall with a thick black like the blood demons bleed, and a shiver slithers over the length of my spine. _You can't go back now_.

I blink and take a large gulp of air. Keep moving, don't stop moving. I descend the ladder, each movement slow and wary, restraining the need to go faster. It takes about five minutes until I reach the ground, where I jump and an echo searches the tunnel.

Here everything is black. If I crane my head back enough, I can see is a tiny hole of light—the hole where I had been earlier, surrounded by hundreds of ants—and it is the only thing that isn't swallowed by obscurity. There might be hundreds of ants here, too. There might even be some beast prowling these sullen halls. I wouldn't know. I can't see my hands, my bright orange jumpsuit, my golden hair that sometimes pools over my shoulder. I can't see anything.

Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe I should classify the tightening in my chest as anxiety, not excitement. But I've never been afraid of the dark. It has always comforted me. I like the whole idea of everything opaque and clouded; so, no one can see me, and I can't see them.

Even if I was scared, I know the trail so well I could probably get there with my eyes closed. Ten metres straight, right turn and keep walking for another fifteen metres, turn left and another left, then continue up to the exit. It took about eight minutes if I jogged.

The whole journey I breathed only through my mouth. There were a few moments where I got a whiff of something that smelled like gardening compost and mud. It was always followed by a moist taste, rolling around my mouth. Then I would sneeze several times, perhaps from dust or something down here I'm allergic to. I always had an annoyingly itchy nose afterwards. Maybe I should wear something over my face next time I'm here.

Something bright hauls me from my thoughts, and my poor eyes struggle to process something other than darkness.

It's the exit, _finally_.

I jog faster. Now, I can hear something other than a hollow hum. The thrashing of maple trees and birds' singing, even an owl's shrill chant. The lovely sway of grass and barberries. The distant purr of Konoha's nightlife. And something crashing—something wild and untamed. As always, the sounds croon exoticness into my ears, my mind, my soul, and I savour them. It's a cure that solves anything. It's my cure.

The exit is only three steps away now, and I realize I forgot to move in its charm. I race outside, through unkempt weeds and bushes, and into a large field, enclose by a forest on one side and a waterfall on the other. Overhead is a river of navy ink, nearly black, lit by hundreds and hundreds of lights. Some lights are bigger than others, and I know from what Shisui told me that they are planets. Sometimes I stare at them and wonder how something as big as a planet could be as small as a dot. I wonder if there's life there too, or if the planet is the same as Earth.

"Took you long enough," a voice sounds behind me.

I look over my shoulder. Shisui. Kami, he had to be the prettiest boy I've ever seen. Sasuke's fangirls would be jealous. He has the darkest set of eyes I've ever seen, and his eyelashes are so long I wonder how they didn't annoy him. He's probably used to it, or they're not that much in the way. My eyelashes are short and blonde and they still annoy me. His hair, nearly as dark as his eyes, is thick and curly. Not the type of curly that curls only at the ends, or is so frizzy it looks in a desperate need of a brush. No—each curl is so perfectly placed that it looks messy in that flawless way. Though, some locks were loose enough to be wavy.

I think I'm a little jealous of him. It's not fair: I was born with hair that wasn't quite straight, but not wavy either; a face a bit too round, eyes a bit too big; a figure short enough that I could easily pretend to be younger than I am to get the cheaper options. The bullies at the academy say my face looks like an orange. And here he is, every feature perfectly symmetrical and adjacent to the golden ratio.

I go to the ground and sit cross-legged. "Sorry I'm late," I say, my hands playing with the hem of my shirt. Kami, why am I still nervous around him? I've only been visiting him every night for the past two months since I discovered this place. "I got a little side-tracked."

He goes to spot next to me and copies my position. "What did you do?"

"I got chased by Hokkaido wolfs and a tiny human with bat wings saved me," I say. "And I thought that a spider web was going to kill me."

His response is a blank look.

I laugh. "My imagination, remember?"

"Oh yes—I still think you should make a clown and chase Sasuke with it." A silly grin pulled his mouth. "They're his secret fear."

"You're evil, Shisui," I say, and despite myself, I grin too. "But I can't—I can't control it."

"So? I'll teach you."

"How can you? No one has what I have. Besides," my shoulders slump and I fall to the ground, my body spread out like a starfish, and I stare at the beauty that is the night sky, "Jiji doesn't want me to use it anyway. He says it's dangerous."

"The Third?" he clarifies.

I look at him sideways. "Oh yeah—him." An abashed smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Sorry—sometimes I forget he's the Third, y'know? To me, he's just Jiji." I turn to my stomach and prop my chin in my hand. "Did you know he's the only family member I have?"

He nods, looking down at me from his sitting position. "Yeah," he says quietly. I never hear him say anything quietly.

"We're not related or anything," I say quickly. "I just…I've known him my whole life, and I love him as one—a grandfather, I mean. If you love someone as such, blood shouldn't matter, should it?"

He considers me for a moment. "No, I don't think so. My teammate was adopted, and her family were really close. She loved her parents more than anyone, and her brother…she had huge sibling complex, but not as much as my cousin." He looks away and towards the river, and he's distant. I wonder if he's imagining himself as the waves like I sometimes do. If he's imagining himself as free and brave as the water, plunging, racing, diving into their next great big adventure. "Just because you're related doesn't mean you're instantly connected. You can be blood-related, and be as close as strangers passing by. Some people hate their family."

"If I had a family, I wouldn't hate them. I think I would savour every moment with them."

He looks back at me, and I know whatever trance he was in is gone because he is grinning. "Uh-huh," I know this is Shisui being sarcastic, "you sure you won't get sick of them?"

" _Yes_ , I'm sure, Shisui," I bite back. "No one around here appreciates their family, dattebayo!" It's true: all I ever hear people at the academy talking about is how annoying their parents or siblings are.

"Gonna tell them off, Naru?" Amusement brought clarity to the one dimple on his left cheek, and it's the only feature that wasn't perfectly mirrored.

"You know what? I might just do that!"

"Make them give you money while you're at it—you know, that whole penalty thing parents do."

I frown at him. "I'm not doing that. That's a bully thing to do."

He shrugs. "All kids are bullies."

"No, they're not, dattebayo! Some kids are nice…"

His back falls to the ground, and he yawns loudly. "Yeah, yeah—you're just offended because you're a kid."

"You're two years older than me, Shisui."

He hums.

"If all kids were bullies, then that means you were a bully."

He crosses his arms behind his head. "Hell yeah, I was a bully. I didn't share my gummy bears with anyone."

A groan escapes my mouth. " _Shisui_ ," I whine.

"Naru," he whines.

"That's _not_ bullying."

"Tell them that." He looks at the space between us. "You can come closer you know. I'm not going to eat you."

Red floods my cheeks, but I don't move any closer. I try to think of something witty to say, but I draw nothing. Instead, I snap, "I know that."

"Woah, didn't know I was that horrible to be around. I can go if you want to be—" Something fills my stomach, and it's pale and sickly and I don't like it.

"No," I say quickly, "I'm sorry: I didn't mean it to come out that way." I sit up and look down to find his dark curls tangled with grass, and he's staring at me. "It's just…I've never been around people like this. It makes me nervous, y'know? And then I say things I don't really mean, and…I've told you I've never really had any friends before; I only have Jiji…and—and I know you're not real," I snatch a glance at him, and his expression hasn't changed, "but everything in my imagination just feels so real. Like I can hear your footsteps, see you so clearly, feel real things around you…sometimes I forget that you're something from my imagination." I laugh nervously and my hand flies to my hair. "Kami, you must think I'm such a loser. I can't even feel normal around something that's not real."

He's still staring at me, and he's contemplating something, and panic grips me. I've just embarrassed myself even more. Why can't I just shut my big mouth? _Say something_ , I plead with him. I don't have the guts to say it out loud; I've already embarrassed myself so much that I pushed my mouth into submission for years.

He closes his eyes, and he must have heard my silent pleads because he responds. "Nah, you're not a loser."

Relief courses through my body, and I smile at him. "I know you're lying, but thanks."

He opens one eye, and he's grinning again. "Maybe you are a loser," he allows, "but that makes both of us losers. I'm the Uchiha who jokes around too much and can't pull a stoic face to save my life, and you're a hyperactive, clueless idiot who overthinks everything and loves anything orange. Perfect match, don't you think?"

"I don't know," I joke, "you're a little too good-looking to be in the loser group."

"Judging looks over personality? That's a shallow thing to do, Naru." He makes a disapproving sound, and I know he would've shaken his head if he wasn't laying down.

"Judging personality over looks? That's a thoughtful thing to do, Shisui. Perhaps it's a little too considerate for the loser group. Us losers are jealous people, y'know."

"I can't help that I'm considerate, good-looking person."

"Add immodest to the list, and it sounds like someone that belongs to the popular group."

"Too bad," he says, mirth dancing over his features, and even though his eyes are black as the night would be without any stars or lights, I swear I saw something inside them dance too. "I'm joining. Where are the papers?"

"Forgot them," I say, "and you just said you're an Uchiha, and Sasuke's fangirls would kill me if I put you in the loser group."

He laughs. "So he's popular with the girls too?"

I eye him. "Do you know him?"

"I'm an Uchiha, and he our clan's leader's son." I think my skin just turned grey permanently.

"So…you mean you've actually talked to him—like you were alive and everything." I really, really hope he says no.

"Generally, to talk to another person you need to be alive," he says, then shrugs. "But then I'm talking to you…" That means yes. That means—

"You're a ghost," I blurt.

He deadpans. "You've known this since I've spoken to you."

"I knew you weren't real, but I thought you were from my imagination, not a—a—"

He sucks a large gulp of air and laughs. "You're afraid of ghosts!" He manages through fits of laughter.

"Shut up, Shisui." He wasn't what I thought ghosts would be like.

"Careful, Naru: I'm going to send you to the world of dead." He goes to his feet and holds his arms in front of him. I go to my feet clumsily and run a few metres away.

"Stop it, Shisui! And that's not what ghosts do—that's a zombie, dattebayo!"

He pauses, ignores me and continues slowly walking towards me.

"How come when I told you about Sasuke before, you didn't say anything?"

"It didn't really matter."

"It didn't matter? Yes, it _does_ matter, Shisui! You're a ghost, y'know!"

He stops and laughs even more at my fright. "Kami, Naruto—you really are terrified of ghosts. What did you think when I told you I was an Uchiha?"

"I don't know…I didn't believe you were actually an Uchiha."

"You thought I was lying?"

" _No_ —yes—no." I groan. "I don't know," I repeat, "I just thought my imagination created you, an Uchiha, from my hatred for Sasuke."

"Hate is a strong word. Dislike is a better word." Shisui the Pacifist. And ghost, apparently.

" _Shisui_."

"Okay, okay—what do you want me to say? I died? Well yeah, I did. Does it really matter that I'm a ghost or whatever? We're friends, Naru, and that shouldn't change anything." He's right: it doesn't change anything. He's my friend—my _only_ friend—and I couldn't forget him even if I put my heart and soul into it. I just wish he wasn't a ghost.

I eye him wearily and sigh. I take a few steps closer. "No," I say, "no it doesn't." And that's what scares me. If being ghost won't stop me from wanting his company, then what would?

He gives me a smile that fills my heart with warmth.

It makes me feel dizzy.

.

 **A/N: So I have had read Shinigami's Child by Madrigal-in-training (it's an awesome fanfic, and if you haven't read it, you really should), and I know, with this being femnaru, and Shisui being sort of a ghost here, this seems similar. But I had this idea and plot for a while now and I really liked it, and I couldn't resist writing it. Any other similarities are unintentional.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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